Thorns
by griseldalafey
Summary: Remix of Petals, which should be read first. After their wedding night, Gold and Belle do confess their feelings for each other, but each of them continues to assume the other wants Belle to have her reconstructive surgery.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: Because of an anonymous prompt I got on Tumblr and I'm not quite done with playing with these characters._

 **Thorns**

On the morning of her surgery they were sitting in the kitchen, both of them quiet and withdrawn, the silence between them uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

"Would you like some water?" he asked her, his voice sounding strained.

Belle nodded and smiled wanly at him. "Yes, please. Are you sure you're not hungry?"

"Quite sure," he insisted, his face tight. He poured her a glass and handed it to her, his fingers brushing over hers in a deliberate gesture.

Her head was feeling light from hunger, not having eaten anything after her early dinner the night before because she needed to stay sober for the operation.  
To her surprise, her husband refused to eat anything as well, simply insisting that he didn't feel like it.

They had only be married for a week. A perfect, beautiful week, filled with more love and tenderness than she could have ever envisioned.

He _loved_ her and the shock of it still made her heart race with incredulity.

He loved her and she had never been happier in her life. They'd barely spend a moment apart all week and it still baffled her that he couldn't seem to stay away, didn't seem to get enough of her.

They'd gone for long walks along the beach, her small, cold hands tucked away into the pockets of his coat.  
They'd had a date at Granny's and he'd been so busy staring at her that he hadn't noticed until halfway through their dinner that Ruby had messed up their orders.  
And they'd spend long, lazy evenings on the couch, him usually with his head in her lap while she read to him and carded her fingers through his hair.

"I've put your bag in the car," he told her, re-arranging items on the spotless counter and it occurred to her that he appeared nervous. "Do you have everything you need?"

"I think so," she answered, sliding off the chair. "I've packed all the clothing they advised and three books… that should be enough, shouldn't it?"

"I can always bring more," he said, giving her a small smile. "I'll be there for every visiting hour and you'll be home before you know it."

She smiled at him, the knot in her stomach loosening for a moment. He took such good care of her. He was so gentle and loving with her and she hadn't thought it to be possible, but in the past week she had fallen so much deeper in love with him than she'd already had been.

'It was only a couple of days,' she told herself sternly. 'A week at most. Then she'd be home again and they'd have another couple of beautiful, precious weeks together before her next surgery.

His eagerness to be with her, even when the scars still marred her face, surprised her. He craved her nearness constantly, always pulling her close and into his arms and she'd grown to love how safe and wanted he made her feel whenever he held her.

He loved her and he had taken every opportunity to show her just how much. His ardency on their wedding night had thrilled her, but after that, it had only gotten better.  
When he proposed to her he had told her that he only wanted a companion, but now they were lovers in every sense of the word.

He told her how much he loved her constantly, whispering the words against her skin as he found new ways to make her body sing with pleasure or into her hair when he held her afterwards. They'd been married for a week, but it she still felt a thrill when he first brushed his lips over hers, or slid his hands over her skin.

She was so in love with him.  
But every time she told him that, his eyes filled with that look of shocked wonder, as if he barely believed her and it didn't make sense. How could she not love him?

Last night they had only made love once, but he had drawn it out for hours, caressing and kissing every inch of her skin until she'd all but melted into a very sated, boneless puddle. She had tried to commit every second of it to her memory, knowing that it would probably be a while before they could be like that again.

He'd held her all through the night, his arms wrapped tightly and protectively around her, plastering her against him.  
She hadn't really been able to sleep, had just kept her face buried against his chest, soaking up the warmth and safety he offered, wishing she could hide in his arms forever, wishing morning would never come.

But of course it had and here she was. Apart from a tightness in her skin, the scars on her face had stopped bothering her years ago, but she knew they would sting and hurt like fresh burn marks all over again when she woke up from the surgery, along with the places on her body where they had taken her skin to replace the ruined skin of her cheek.

It would be worth it. He already loved her so much. All week long she had never detected any sign of revulsion on his face, no indication whatsoever that he was put off by her.  
But she knew what she looked like and he deserved so much better than that. She just needed to be a little braver.

 _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow._ It had worked for her on her wedding night and it would work for her now.

"I think it's time to go," she said softly

He nodded, the lines on his face tightening. Together they made their way to the hallway and he helped her into her coat. For a moment his hands rested on her shoulders and she felt him gripping her tightly before he released her.

Stepping outside and walking towards the Cadillac was almost physically impossible for her, every impulse in her body screaming at her to run back inside and hide.

But she would be brave and so she gave him another smile as he opened the door of car for her and slid down in the seat, throwing one last, longing glance back at the house.  
She'd be back in a couple of days and once she got home again, everything would be all right.

The drive to the hospital passed far too quickly and in the same, tense silence that was now hanging between them like a heavy blanket.

For one, intense moment, Belle allowed herself to hate the scars that had given her so much pain and grief. That had complicated so many things in her life that mattered to her. Her career, her marriage, her very happiness.  
At least it would end here. Once the surgeries were over, she wouldn't have to fight so damn hard anymore.

As they walked up the steps to the hospital, Rowan wrapped his hand around hers and she curled her fingers into his, grateful for the support he offered.  
He held onto her hand tightly as they checked into the hospital and were admitted to Dr. Whale's office for a final briefing.

"Do you have any questions left?" Whale asked her at the end of that interview.

"When will I be able to go home?" Belle asked at once.

"It depends on your recovery," Whale replied gently. "If the wounds are healing well and we've figured out the right doses for your pain medication you can go home. You'll get morphine patches to get you through the first couple of days and as long as you need those, we'll keep you admitted."

Next to her Rowan stifled a strained, choking noise.

"We're going to take skin from you upper leg," Whale explained, "so aside from your face, that area will be quite painful for the first couple of days."

Well, the morphine would dull most of that, so she just had to focus on getting better as fast as possible so that she could go home.

She glanced towards her husband, noticing that he was deathly pale, his jaw set in a firm line, while his hand clutched hers tightly, almost painfully.

Something was off. For the past week he had been so relaxed, so joyous and she had reveled in it, daring to believe that it was her who'd made him so happy.  
She'd watched him as he'd crashed into the mattress next to her, his body heavy and languid, sated from an intense round of love-making, his eyes burning into hers, dark and hooded, drugged with passion and arousal.  
She'd watched as the lines around the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed, a real, heartfelt laugh that send her heart racing.  
She had watched him as he teased and flirted with her, that tiny smile playing around the corner of his lips, one she fancied he saved especially for her.

Now he was brooding and unhappy and Belle once again resented her scars.

After their talk with Whale she was shown into a small hospital room and instructed to change into a yellow paper gown and wait for the orderlies to come and wheel her into the OR.  
They spend their last moments together talking quietly about nothing in particular while he continued to hold her hand and rub his thumb over her wrist.

Her heart was pounding and her blood was rushing in her ears, her head light from hunger and nerves and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to battle down her rising panic.

A nurse popped her head around the door. "They're on their way, Mrs. Gold."

Looking up into her husband's face, Belle swallowed with difficulty. "This is it…"

He nodded, looking as if he was ready to cry. "I'll be there when you wake up, sweetheart," he promised her, his voice hoarse and strained.

"I'd like that," she murmured, leaning into him and sighing when he wrapped his arms around her. He stroked her hair and her back and clutched her tighter to him.

"It's going to be all right," she whispered against his shoulder, belying her own fears. "Everything will be just fine."

"Oh Belle…" he pulled back slightly and cradled her face in his hands. Reaching out, he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and tucked them behind her ear.  
Her own hands slid up around his neck and into his hair as she pulled his head down to hers.

He responded immediately, capturing her lips with his own, his tongue stroking the seam of her lips, begging for entrance, which she granted instantly, moaning softly at the feel of him exploring her mouth and kissing her deeply.

She tried to focus on his taste, his warmth, on the feel of his strong arms around her, but the tears she had tried to keep in ever since the day before started to leak from her eyes and soon her face was wet, making their kiss taste salty.

Burrowing herself tighter against him, she sobbed helplessly, almost drowning in panic and fear.

"Belle…?" he pulled back, dark, worried eyes searching hers, his expression fraud with distress. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

She wished she was stronger, braver, but she wasn't. Instead she was shaking and crying and she wanted to run.

"Darling, you have to talk to me…" he pleaded with her, cradling her face once more, wiping at her tears. "What's going on?"

She tried to think of an excuse, because she wasn't going to ruin her marriage with the truth, but as she gazed up into his stricken expression, his warm eyes bloodshot with worry and his pupils dilated in fear, she couldn't stop the words that tumbled from her lips in an embarrassed, tiny whisper:  
"I don't want to have the surgery."

She braced herself for his indignation, for him to remind her of their deal and everything it entailed. He had more than lived up to his side of the bargain, it was only fair that she now fulfilled her end.

Instead, he gaped at her incredulously, his eyes filling with…. hope?

"Do you… mean that?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded, her face burning with shame. "I'm sorry…"

"Sweetheart, if you don't want to have the surgery, then we go home," he told her and this time she wasn't imagining it. The tightness was slowly disappearing from his face and his eyes were shining.

She couldn't help but gape at him herself now "You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not," he replied promptly, his posture relaxing further. "If you're certain that you've changed your mind…"

She winched at his choice of words and suddenly felt terrified again. What if he thought she not only wanted to cancel the surgery, but end their marriage as well?  
What if he, now that she wasn't going to get rid of the scars, no longer wanted her?

Having the surgery was a far less terrifying prospect.

"I don't want to go back on our deal," she said quietly, disentangling herself from his arms. She needed to put some distance between them. Nothing would be more horrible than to have him push her away after he realized she was trying to wriggle her way out of their agreement.

At her words he deflated, his shoulders tensing again. "Right, our deal…" he muttered, his face pinched.

"Do you want to have the surgery?" His voice was flat and matter-of-fact and Belle felt her stomach tighten in fear.

Nevertheless, he deserved her honesty.  
"No."

"All right." His face had become a deathly pale, stark mask, his eyes boring into hers. "Do you want to get a divorce?"

"NO!" she shrieked, jumping off the bed. "No, please… I'm sorry… I'll have the surgery… please…"

At her words, the mask cracked and her husband lunched forward, enveloping her in his arms, crushing her against his chest.

"I"m sorry…" she whispered against his shoulder. "I won't go back on my promise. Please don't end our marriage…"

" _Belle…_ " he started, his voice sounding broken and just then the door opened and two orderlies appeared.  
"Mrs Gold?"

She moaned desperately, her body tensing and he all but wrapped himself around her as if he wanted to shield her.  
"My wife won't be having the surgery," he informed the orderlies.

"But… everything is ready… you can't just…" one of them began to sputter, but he cut them off, the fierceness in his voice booking no argument. "She's not having the surgery and that's final. I'll be out shortly to talk to Dr. Whale, but for now I need to talk with my wife."

Once the orderlies had left, he turned back to face her, his eyes wide with horror.

"Belle… did you think the surgery was the condition for our marriage?"

She blinked at him. "Wasn't it? You offered to marry me and in return I'd get rid of the scars for you."

"You… you never wanted the surgery?" he asked bewildered. "You did that for me? But then why would you agree to marry me?"

"Because I love you," she answered, tears pooling in her eyes. "I just… I just wanted you."

He crushed his lips to hers, his arms coming up around her to hold her close and she could feel his heart pounding against hers. She tried to return his kiss, but he plundered her mouth, growling when she wrapped her arms around his neck to cling to him tightly.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his head against her forehead, their noses pressed together.  
He was panting, his eyes wide and feral and his lips slightly swollen from kissing her so vehemently.

"You _love_ me…" he murmured. His voice was still laced with amazement, but there was a new understanding in his eyes and Belle realized that this was probably the first time he truly believed her and her heart broke for him.

"I do," she affirmed, carding her hands through his hair, "I love you so much and…" taking a deep breath, she looked up in his eyes. She was almost certain that he wouldn't, but she needed the conformation: "I don't want to lose you…"

"Oh sweetheart…" he laughed breathlessly before capturing her lips again, pouring all his love and adoration for her in the gentlest kiss he'd ever given her, caressing her softly through the thin material of her paper gown until the last pop of tension left her body.

"I'll never let you go," he vowed to her.

She snuggled into his arms, resting her cheek against his chest, just savoring the moment until a thought occurred to her.  
"Rowan…" looking up into his eyes, she was stunned by the fierce look of devotion shining from his eyes.

"What is it, love?" he asked, tenderly stroking the side of her face. She smiled at him, her heart almost bursting with happiness and it was only then that she realized he was caressing her scars.

"Did you want me to have the surgery?"

"No!" he answered so profoundly it chased away the last remains of her worries. "I can't stand the thought of you in so much pain. That first meeting in Whale's office… I just wanted to drag you away from there.

Sweetheart…" he caressed her brow, his eyes clouding with guilt. "I am so sorry. I wish I had never suggested that blasted surgery in the first place… I've caused you so much fear and worry…"

"It's all right," she answered softly, caressing his face. "I know that my scars make me look ugly and I thought about reconstructive surgery a lot myself. I just never anticipated it would be so complicated."

She would never look beautiful for him now, but he still loved her anyway, so if it was enough for him, it would have to be enough for her.

"Belle!" he grabbed her shoulders, his eyes growing wide with shock and dismay. "You're not… I… you'd never…" Her eloquent husband was frantically grabbling for words until they all but exploded from his mouth.  
"You're _beautiful._ You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. When you came to me on our wedding night, I couldn't believe my luck… that you would let me touch you and kiss you… you're so perfect in every way… you're beautiful, but you're also sweet and smart and funny… and you _love_ me… and I love you so much."

Fresh tears rolled down over her cheeks, their tracks hindered by the creases of her smile as he pressed on.  
"You're beautiful and I love you… and nothing can make you more beautiful than you already are," he told her, punctuating every few words with a kiss. "And I'm going to tell you that every day, until you believe me. And I'll tell you every day how happy you've made by loving me… by wanting to be with me."

"Of course I want to be with you," she whispered, kissing him back, her insides glowing with love and happiness.  
And then the penny dropped and she pulled back with a gasp of shock.

"You thought that me marrying you was the condition…" she echoed his earlier words. "That's why you offered the surgery!"

He nodded, his face coloring. "I never believed you wanted to marry me and that by telling you how I feel about you I would only scare you off. I thought that by offering the surgery, you'd be able to realize your dreams."

Holding his head between her hands, she looked at him intently. "I love you and I want to be with you."

Turning his head, he pressed his lips against the finger that held her wedding band. "I love you and you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

"From now on, we talk," she urged him. "No more deals, no more assuming… We'll talk about things."

"We will, he agreed, kissing her softly.

Just as she started to respond to his kiss, her stomach rumbled loudly and she let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"Oh, sweetheart, you must be starving…" Immediately, her husband became a flutter of activity. "I'll explain things to Whale… quickly, and get him to discharge you. I'll also find out where the nurse left your clothes. Do you want to go to Granny's for lunch first?"

"I want to go home," she told him, suddenly feeling hurried herself, yearning to be back in their own space together.

"Yes," he replied, his face lightening up with happiness, pulling her close once more. "Let's go home."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The night air was warm and sultry, even long after the sun had set and they decided to walk home from the restaurant, leisurely strolling over the pavement, their arms wrapped around each other.

It wasn't often that they left their one year old daughter in the care of a babysitter, but tonight they'd had something to celebrate.

After her marriage it had quickly become clear that continuing to work at her father's flower shop wasn't an ideal situation for any of the parties involved. As much as Belle loved her father, he still had some trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that his daughter had married one of the most ill-trusted men of Storybooke and was genuinely and blissfully happy with him.  
And with her degree in library science collecting dust, her husband was ready to move mountains to ensure she got the job she deserved.

When she became pregnant with their daughter the whole job search had been put on hold, as he insisted that she took it slow and didn't overtask herself.

In the end, it had been a random encounter that had resolved the entire dilemma.

He'd been in the process of selling a couple of antique books when he discovered the buyer was in fact an old college friend of him.  
Pleased to have met him again and eager to renew the contact, he invited him to dinner and over cheese fondue, they got to reminisce about the past, Belle a captive audience to his friend's tales of Rowan Gold in his younger years.

After college, Isaac Heller had done well for himself and now owned one of the biggest publishing companies in Massachusetts.  
When the discussion turned to books - and with two of the greatest bibliophiles he'd ever met in the same room, Gold wondered resignedly how it hadn't happened sooner - Heller was duly impressed with the vast amount and variety of books Belle had read.

When he discovered she had quite a critical mind and could easily form and defend her opinions on what she'd read, he offered her a job as an editor for his company.

It had been on a six month trial period first, but as soon as that had expired, Heller offered her the job on a permanent contract.

Since she only had to attend two or three meetings a week and could perform the majority of her tasks at home, she was still able to spend a lot of time with their daughter.  
But with this new challenge in her life, Belle was thriving. She _loved_ her job, loved getting her hands on fresh manuscripts and making suggestions on how to improve it.  
Soon she became highly popular with the authors involved with H&V Publishing because of the friendly, yet critical feedback she offered.

For his part, Gold was delighted for her. He had always known his wife was brilliant and talented, but he felt privileged to see how her confidence grew even more now that she was fully valued outside their home.

Her getting a permanent contract had been the reason for their date and as they were walking across Main Street, Belle giggling happily as something he'd said, giddy from the wine and the thrill of landing her dream job, he felt completely content with the entire world.

Rubbing his hand up and down over her back, resenting the thick wool of her coat, he leaned in to press his lips against her temple.  
"How about we go home and continue our celebration?" he asked quietly, his breath ghosting over her ear.

She shivered against him, wide, blue eyes finding his, beaming with happiness and a hint of arousal.

"That sounds like a wonderful suggestion," she answered playfully, her cheeks rosy. Reaching up, she planted a somewhat sloppy kiss on the underside of his jaw.  
"Let's get home really quickly!"

They had just crossed the street to avoid passing The Rabbit Hole, Storybrooke's only pub that tended to attract the towns less favorable inhabitants on a Friday night when they ran into a couple of men, talking and laughing loudly as they swayed across the sidewalk, clearly inebriated.

Purely on instinct, he pulled Belle closer, only wishing to pass the men as quickly as possible.  
He was about to exhale in relief as the last of three walked past them, when he turned around and ran an apprising look over his wife before his face contorted in disgust.

"Holy shit, will you look at that!" he slurred loudly and his words made the other two men stop in their tracks and turn around.

"That's hands down the ugliest thing I've seen all week!" he sneered, making a jab toward's Belle's face.

Pushing her behind him, Gold stepped forward, fury burning through his veins. "Back _the hell_ off!" he snarled.

"Dude, do you put a paper bag over her head before your fuck her?" another of them asked, sending the other men off into a fit of rancorous laughter.

With his blood roaring in his ears and red spots dancing in front of his eyes, he lunched forwards, his fist colliding with the other man's jaw, the pain in his knuckles only fueling his intense rage.

He was barely aware of the other two men closing in on him as well, ready to strike again when a small figure appeared in front of him.

"Rowan, no!"

Through the haze of his anger and adrenaline pumping through him, he became aware of her calm, collected voice addressing the three tugs.

"Just continue on you way, neither of us want this kind of trouble."

Her hands around his fist determinedly pulled him away and as the three men started to walk, still hurling obscenities, she wrapped her arms around his waist forcing them to move as well in the opposite direction.

"Come on," she coaxed him softly, her head bumping his shoulder to persuade him to keep moving. "Let's go home."

* * *

By the time they reached their home, Rowan was still seething with anger. She could feel it in tense way he carried himself and the harsh, angry lines in his face.

In the hallway they were greeted by Grace Hatter, their fifteen year old babysitter who instantly picked up on the strained atmosphere between them.

"Did- didn't you have a good time?" she asked uncertain, her eyes flashing between them.

"Grace, could you step into the living room for a moment?" Belle asked her kindly. "I'll be with you in a second."

When the girl hurried back inside, she turned to her husband, who was still breathing heavily, his eyes flashing with rage.  
"Go upstairs," she instructed him softly. "I'll pay Grace and see her out and then I'm coming up to join you."  
Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, feeling how his entire body still radiated fury, every muscle in him clenched.

But he did as she asked and started to climb up the stairs and with a sigh of relief, Belle hurried into the living room to pay and reassure the startled girl.  
Grace Hatter was a lovely, patient babysitter and Rosalee adored her. It wouldn't do to lose her.

Once Grace had left, Belle went upstairs and found him sitting on the side of the bed, his suit jacket and waistcoat discarded, his hair ruffled from running his hands through it.

He still looked furious.

"Hey…" she said softly, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in hers.

"That fucking imbecile…" he hissed through clenched teeth, his hands flexing into tight fists. Her husband very rarely swore and this was just all the more proof of just how upset he was. She lifted her hand to stroke his hair and when he turned sideways, her palm curled around his cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Belle," he told her hoarsely, his eyes wet and filled with pain. "You should never have to deal with this kind of insults. You're so beautiful and so lovely and no-one has the right to say otherwise…"

The most loving, doting husband in the world was apologizing for a few insults a couple of nameless idiots had hurled at her and her heart melted at his words.  
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and kissed him tenderly.

"I love you," he told her after she'd pulled back and rested her forehead agains this.

"I love you too," she answered, continuing to caress his hair. "And I don't care about what they said."

As she said it, she realized just how true those words were and an enormous sense of peace washed over her.  
Their words hadn't hurt her, could no longer hurt her and she was just as surprised at that as he apparently was.

Her husband was looking at her as if she'd grown an extra head, his eyes wide with shock. "Belle… they… they _insulted_ you! They said the most horrible things to you!"

"And still, I don't care," she insisted, the glow of contentment this discovery brought her warming her further.

When he continued to look doubtful, she took his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Come on."

With their hands clasped, she led him to the nursery and flicked on the low light besides her crib. Their daughter was sleeping peacefully, her short, dark curls fanned over the pillow.

"Look at her," Belle whispered quietly. "She's absolutely perfect."

"She is," he whispered back, wrapping his arm around her and she finally felt him relax somewhat.

Their daughter was the joy of his life. From the moment she had told him she was pregnant he had been beaming with happiness, as proud as a peacock.  
All through her pregnancy he had treated her as if she had been a fragile porcelain doll and the look on his face when he had first felt the baby move inside her belly was one that would stay with her for the rest of her life.

But nothing would ever beat his expression of sheer, undiluted happiness when he had first seen his daughter.  
Technically Rosie and been in her arms at the time, but with the way he had wrapped himself around both of them, his fingers stroking the baby's fuzzy head reverently, tears streaming down his face, he'd been holding her for the first time and nothing had ever been more beautiful.

"Don't you see?" She asked, still talking quietly as not to disturb their sleeping daughter. "I have a beautiful, precious daughter, who's as healthy as a fiddle, I have a job that I thoroughly love and makes me feel like I can tackle the world, but most of all…"

Turning around in his arms, she pressed herself agains him and stroked his face and hair lovingly.  
"Most of all, I have the most amazing, loving, wonderful husband in the world who loves me and who has loved me right from the start.

What the hell do I care what a few drunken fools are saying about me?"

"You are amazing, do you know that?" he asked softly, pressing tender kisses against her brow. "I love you so much… right from the beginning… I looked at you and I was lost… you are the most beautiful, most loving woman I've ever met…"

He had told her this before of course, at various moments and in different wording, but hearing him say it now only managed to re-affirm their bond all over again.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked worriedly, cupping her face in his hand. "You don't have to be brave, sweetheart…"

"I'm not," she reassured him, nestling in his embrace. "I honestly don't care about what they said… People have said things like that to me before and worse… But what do they now? And for a long time I thought along the same lines, before I discovered it wasn't true… their words can't hurt me anymore."

"You're very wise," he told her, his voice warm with adoration and she smiled against his chest.

"Not really," she objected. "I just got very… _very_ lucky. You were the first person who looked past my scars, including me.  
You really _saw_ me and you loved me and you gave me the courage to believe that there's more to me than a few scars… that in the end they hardly mean anything."

Pulling back, she gazed up into his suspiciously bright eyes. "You have changed everything… you gave me the world… I have you and we have our daughter… what do I care about what anyone else says?"

His lips came crashing down on hers and he kissed her with such abandon that her knees went weak and she had to cling to him to keep upright.

When they finally pulled back, he was panting and her blood was rushing. Taking a look inside the crib to ensure their daughter was still sound asleep, she grasped his hand and pulled him outside. They stumbled into the hallway and she found herself being pressed into the wall, with her husbands hands wandering eagerly over her body.

"I believe we had plans for this evening…?" he whispered, his accent thick and the fury in his eyes replaced by a look of hunger.

Joyously she wrapped her arms around his neck, shrieking in surprise when he picked her up and started to carry her towards the bedroom.

She had the most wonderful husband in the world. And that was all that mattered.

* * *

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